Recalled to Life
by Phoenix Falconer
Summary: A collection of one-shots featuring Renee's discovery that Jack, is, in fact, alive. Not related to my current fanfiction. Take a look...
1. Chapter 1

**I decided to come back for a little bit and write a few one-shots. This has NOTHING to do with my other fic, Aftermath. It's just something that's been floating around my head for a while, and I just wanted to print it out. Basically all of these one-shots will feature Renee, and her discovery that Jack is alive and well...even though they might not feature Jack himself. **

**Background information: 2 days after events of day 7, Jack is well—and Renee did torture Alan Wilson. But because there was no conclusive evidence, and she had the President's side, she was not arrested. The Bureau kept the information very hushed up. Renee did not get anything from Alan Wilson, either, there were no leads.**

**As you can see from this, I love the book _Tale of Two Cities. _I don't own any of the references...that was worked up by the brilliant mind of Charles Dickens.**

Renee operated on autopilot alone. Her mind was overwhelmed with the possibility that there was something more she could have done, something extra, something more _painful _to make Wilson speak. She was sure that if Jack had conducted the interrogation, he would have gotten the information; and yet, she didn't get anything. She herself conducted the raid on his manor and seized his computer, phones, and anything else they could use against him. She had Janis and Chloe work together—in which both of them viewed as punishment—to crack it, but the best of FBI and CTU could not get anything out of the ordinary from his files. Wilson was very careful to cover his tracks, and Renee was furious to discover that there was nothing that they could use against him. She told Janis that she wasn't working hard enough, that she wasn't hired to do nothing—when Chloe stood up to Agent Walker and told her off for her manners. Renee was about to accuse Chloe of insubordination, when she realized that Chloe, technically, didn't even work for her.

So either way, Renee had nothing—_nothing—_to connect any criminal activity to Wilson. Not even a speeding ticket.

When Jack entered the picture.

Renee had been in Larry's office—now her office—when the door opened. She had been searching through Larry's computer files to see if he had any information on Wilson, as he had a higher security level clearance compared to her. "Get out," she ordered, without bothering glancing up to see that her order was followed through.

The door closed, but the intruder remained at the door way, which infuriated her even more. Renee's personality had drastically changed since that fateful day; she was much more short-tempered, cynical, and just _vengeful _in general. "_Get out."_

"So sure about that?" came the intruder's voice. "If you'd rather I'd leave, _Agent Walker." _She froze. "I can arrange that," he continued.

"I—" She started "—am hearing things." She concluded. She honestly believed that she was hearing Jack's voice because she'd been thinking of him and Larry a few moments previously.

"Daggit, Renee! You trust me, but you don't trust yourself?" She heard footsteps, and mere milliseconds later a hand brushed her neck and throat, caressing her scar.

She turned the office chair around and stood up suddenly, so close to him, the space between them was nonexistent. She felt him, his neck, his face, his shoulders—it really was him, and Jack gazed at her patiently as she did so. Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, she cracked and cried tears of joy, pain, fury, and another emotion that she might identify as love.

She was made aware of his arm coming around her waist, and his free hand pressed against her head. He pressed his forehead against her crown patiently, holding her close, just as Larry had done four years ago when her mother was murdered.

She could live like this, she thought.

"Where do I begin," she finally asked, after getting her act together.

"How about saying, 'Jack, I'm sorry that I let Kim go back to you.'" he murmured against her hair softly. She knew what he was referring to: _"I guess the best advice I can give you is…try to make choices you can live with." _

He brought his hand from her head to her shoulder and neck, gently massaging her skin…he felt her tensed muscles loosen and relax. Something she hadn't done for a long time.

She whimpered slightly, then was ashamed that she'd put on a show of being so weak. She began to tense up, to push him away, she was too proud—but he murmured, "Agent Walker…It's just me," and she realized that it _was_ just him—no one else would see Jack's intimate caresses of her neck and shoulders. There was no shame in Jack seeing her weaknesses. She relaxed and collapsed against him, putting her full weight on his frame.

He stumbled and she gasped as he hit the back of the wall opposite of them.

"Jack—I—"

"I'm not completely healed yet, Agent Walker," he rasped. "Macer said that it would be another 2 weeks until I regain my usual stamina and energy. Until then, you'll have to deal with a weak Jack."

"Stop it," she told him irritably. "Cut it with the 'Agent Walker' crap. Sit down," she added, and he followed suit with a soft, "Yes, Ma'am."

He took a chair across from Larry's—Renee's—desk and sat down in it. Renee walked around him until she was behind him, then she, too, began to rub his skin around his shoulders and neck. She applied pressure on a nerve running up his spine, and he winced then relaxed, going slack.

"Would you mind telling me why you're still alive," she murmured softly.

He didn't answer.

"Don't make me hurt you, Bauer," she said in mock threat.

"You—" he said and coughed. "You called and notified Kim. She returned to the hospital and recalled me to life."

Renee recognized the reference. A golden thread, Kim, and recalling to Life. "_Tale of Two Cities?" _She questioned. "I never knew you were into literature."

"'m not. Since high school, though, that phrase has always stuck with me. Anything can be recalled to life."

She thought about this, and unconsciously her hands started to drift towards his throat. Suddenly, his vice-like hands gripped hers tightly, and she winced. "_What?"_

"Oh—sorry," he explained softly, letting go of her hands and replacing them on his throat. "As a general rule, I usually don't allow just anyone near my throat."

She felt a glimmer of pride knowing that he trusted her.

**Well, that's it for now...I'll be off to work on Aftermath now! I'll try my best to get something up soon. No promises. See, with one shots, they can be as long or as short as you like....one thing I love about them.**


	2. CTU Reborn

**It's the weekend before Season 8 premiere...here's a snippet...also...Aftermath will be updated on Saturday, the day before the premiere!!!**

**This little chapter is based a little bit on my cultural experiences in the New England area. (I have friends who love there and tell me all about it...like Trenton, Camden, etc. You should hear some of their stories...)**

Five years had passed. Life continues as normal. Time comes and time goes; seasons bloom and seasons fall. It's almost as if one day in one life is so insignificant, it's not worth acknowledging or remembering. But for Ms. Renee Walker, life has its limits.

After Jack's death and the torture of Alan Wilson, she was brought to court on several charges: 1, the torture of Alan Tanner, 2, the torture of Alan Wilson, 3, Carol Vossler's unlawful interrogation, 4, insubordination, 5, the killing of 6 other men. The President could have pardoned her, but Allison Taylor wanted to see how it played out. And it played out exactly the way Jack Bauer's trial played out: "The ends justifies the means, and you are above the law."

"No," She had said. "No one is above the law. But sometimes you need to put the law in front of you to save more lives in the end, and when _you've _taken enough steps forward, the law will stop you. Not the other way around. You never put the law behind you and wait for it to catch up to you--you catch up to the law. And hopefully, by the end of that, you'll have achieved your mission."

Later, after the press and media had had enough, the President did end up pardoning her. But only after. "Sorry, Ms. Walker, but I can't risk getting any more criticism." Taylor had said.

Ms. Walker had understood completely.

Of course, but the end of that, there was no Agent Walker. She was completely stripped of her titles, of her badge and her status. With nowhere else to go, she moved to Princeton, New Jersey where she was able to get a position in her cousin's law firm, as an attorney, on the Princeton University campus. Every now and then she gave a seminar to the students of Princeton, but for the most part, she was being sought out as one of the most popular defense attorneys on the East Coast. Working in New Jersey worked out perfectly for her, because she was sandwiched between New York City and Philadelphia. There were always cases and clients in both of those cities, not to mention she could occasionally pick up some clients in the more crime-ridden cities like Newark and Camden and Trenton--where there were always drugs and people willing to pay a lot of money for any lawyer worth two cents to get them out of prison. Not to mention, in New Jersey, she was close enough to DC that she could visit when she wanted to get out of "Nuh Joisey".

She hated it.

Working as an attorney had its perks. She made more money. She had good contacts in the government (not that she hadn't before.). She didn't live a life of stress. But.

But she had to testify in court for the people she hated, the people that she morally knew were guilty of murder or embezzlement or espionage, but there was no proof, and therefore, it was her doing that got them off free. Like Alan Wilson's case.

Ms. Renee Walker, Attorney at the Pierson Law Office, hated it more than anything.

She was at the Grand Hyatt Hotel in NYC when her life turned around. Again. She was going to meet up with a client--someone who wanted to persecute, and blah, blah, blah. Didn't matter. Anyways, a man and a woman in suits came up to her.

"Ms. Walker," They said as they pulled out their badges. Renee rolled her eyes.

"What?" she asked in exasperation. "You have 5 minutes unless you want to shoot me, in which case you have 1 minute."

"We're with CTU," said the woman agent. Tall, Hispanic, and delicate, she was very straight-spoken. "And we...well, our supervisor wants to meet you."

"Sorry," Renee replied, not at all affected. "But I have a meeting. I don't have time. I'm on a tight schedule, kids, and frankly, I don't care what your supervisor wants."

Ms. Tall-and-Beautiful Agent exchanged a glance with Mr. I'm-going-to-shoot-you-if-you-don't-comply Agent. The male agent said roughly, "Renee Walker, you're going to want to hear this. I don't have clearance to discus this matter in public, but our supervisor, Brian Hastings, said there's something that he needs you for."

Renee narrowed her eyes and stood up. "I don't work for the government anymore. I don't have to follow your orders, and tell Brian Hastings that if he needs me that bad, he can arrest me." Just then, she saw her client. "Sorry, kids, but I can't stay any longer." She greeted her client warmly and entered a private meeting room with her, leaving the two agents aghast.

No more than 5 minutes later did the two agents enter the room. "Ms. Walker," the man said smugly. "_Now _we have orders to arrest you."

She was very close to her boiling point, but she forced herself to keep calm. "Alright," Renee said, not facing them. "You can arrest me then."

In the reflective glass of a painting in the room, she saw that the CTU agents were wary and nervous. They both knew her capabilities. The man approached her and ordered her to stand up, which she did, just because she wanted to get this matter sorted out fast. The woman clipped on handcuffs and she obediently stood up, confusing the CTU agents even more. Although Renee was enjoying keeping the agents on their toes and confusing them even more, even she was growing tired of this charade.

After navigating New York City traffic successfully, they pulled into an underground parking garage near the UN. Ah. So this is where CTU is, she thought. But she was mistaken, because an underground tunnel-sort-of-thing transferred them to the real CTU. Very impressive, she thought. Nearly everything was crystal-clear glass. The lighting was dimmed, unlike the FBI office, and seemed to be emitted in a redder color than a normal light. The atmosphere was very quiet, and she found that she actually enjoyed it--it was relaxed and calm, despite the fact that tons of agents were getting prepped for the field and on one screen, she could see a drone pilot working.

"Renee?" she heard a vaguely familiar voice behind her, and she turned around, still handcuffed. It was Chloe.

"What are you doing here?" Renee asked, aghast.

"I could ask you the same thing. Why are _you_ in handcuffs?" Chloe retorted. "Agent Ortiz, Agent Martinez--what is this?" she demanded, eyes flickering.

"Where's Hastings?" Ortiz replied, ignoring her. Chloe's eyes flashed, but she gestured: "Upstairs, in Joint Ops room."

Renee pointedly ignored the looks she was receiving from CTU. She even recognized a few agents from FBI seminars and what not, but there weren't any that she knew personally like she did with Chloe.

"Ortiz, I'm right here," an exasperated voice sounded behind them, and Agent Ortiz turned around. "You can take her handcuffs off now." the newcomer said. Ortiz did so, and Renee turned around to face the speaker.

Facing her was an imposing black man, whom she knew to be Hastings. The president had informed her that she was reinstating CTU, and Renee had briefly seen Hastings' file.

"What is this about?" Renee demanded. "Your agents can't just drag me into CTU."

"Well, they did." He retorted. "Humor me, Ms. Walker, and come to my office."

Renee hesitated. "Fine," he said. "I order you, come to my office, Agent Walker."

Renee gave a jolt. It had been forever since she'd been referred to as "Agent" Walker. To her, it flowed easier than "Ms Walker". But even so, Hastings had no right to call her by her former title, mocking her. Before she could come up with something snarky, however, he'd turned around and began walking up the glass steps to his office.

Renee surprised Chloe, and herself, by following.

* * *

"I know you left the FBI under difficult circumstances," he said guardedly.

Renee came back, without missing a beat. "Difficult doesn't even begin to describe it."

"I can get you your badge back," he replied.

Renee hesitated. "I'm listening."

"There's...some problems going on. One of America's best agents refuses to work with anyone but you. He wants you in the field as soon as possible."

Renee tried her hardest not to appear surprised. This certainly wasn't what she was expecting.

"Who is..." Renee started to say.

"Jack Bauer," Brian Hastings replied.

Renee gazed at him for a moment, then let out a harsh laugh. "Funny," she said sarcastically. "This is your idea of a joke. Jack Bauer's dead. Even he can't come back from the dead."

Hastings looked taken aback. "You believe he's dead?"

"There's no reason not to," she countered.

"There's every reason not to! He's in CTU right now!"

"CTU disgusts me," Renee said in disgust. "You're trying to be him, and it's not working. In my opinion, there'll never be a CTU unless Bill Buchanan, Jack Bauer and all the former employees are back. I'm leaving, and you can be sure that I'll take the president up on this--prank," she said. Before Hastings could say anything, she left his office and hurried down the stairs, her heels clicking audibly on the glass. Chloe looked up.

"Renee--"

"Not now, Chloe," she said as she swept down the bullpen. Two uniformed security officers approached her and one opened his mouth to say something, but she subdued him--doing the same move she did on Ari, by bringing his arm back and over his head then tripping him with her foot. His partner pulled his weapon on her, but before anything else could happen she heard someone shout: "STOP."

"Put your weapon away!" said the stranger. "And you, Walker, get over here, I have a chopper waiting. Chloe, get her a weapon and holster."

Renee turned around, very slowly. The stranger was walking towards her, looking furious.

"Hastings!" the stranger roared, and suddenly Renee was sure: This definitely was Jack. "Is there a reason your half-arsed security are trying to shoot my--"

"Jack!" she gasped. He stopped cursing Hastings and turned to her. "What?" he demanded.

"You're--you're supposed to be dead!"

"Am I?" he muttered, taking the weapon and holster from Chloe and checking to make sure it was loaded. He handed them to Renee, who took them in amazement. "I must have missed the memo." She didn't miss the humor in his voice, but even so... "Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded furiously. "Why didn't you--"

"Daggit, Walker!" he said. "I thought that you would have figured it out! I'm the one who got the president to pardon you, I'm the one who made sure you had plenty of lawyers' offices to choose from, I'm the one who made sure that you never saw my 'body' after I left you the day you interrogated Alan Wilson! I thought for sure that you'd come looking for me after you realized that it was a closed-casket ceremony."

"I--never wanted to get my hopes up," she said softly.

"So what?" Jack asked angrily. "Does this mean that you don't want to come with me? That you don't want to help me, because you don't want to get your hopes up that you might have a chance of getting your badge back?"

Hastings came up to them. "Er, Jack. If you have an argument, wait until later...we need to figure out how to protect Hassan..."

"And you!" Jack spun around. To Hastings' credit, he didn't flinch. "Is there a reason _your_ people were pulling their guns on_ my_ agent?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He turned around and started walking the opposite direction. Renee, still in shock, didn't move--so as Jack passed her, he took her shoulders and forcibly turned her around and shoved her forward slightly.

"What are you--" she began angrily. She moved quickly out of instinct: with her left hand she grabbed his right wrist, then turned under his outstretched arm and hit him hard over the neck. Just before she could make contact, he twisted his arm and escaped her grasp, taking several steps back in a retreat.

He cut her off. "Just making sure you're still ready for fieldwork," he told her. "Move. Take a left."

"Don't--" she said in an undertone. "I'm still mad at you," she warned.

He smirked. "Alright, I understand that. But don't stay mad for too long. I'm going to be trusting you with my life, and I don't want some sociopath watching my back." He paused. "I just wanted to make sure you had the reflexes to work field work. I know you haven't done so for a long time."

Despite her previous forebodings, she discovered that she was actually looking forward to this day. Finally, she was working in her forte. Finally, she could actually feel _alive._

She loyally followed Jack.

**Review please!**

**And yes, I am working on Aftermath. The next chapter is about 2 days away from being finished. It's so nice when I have these long breaks, where I can just relax and chill and write as much as I feel like it.**

**Thanks!!!**

**--Phoenix**


	3. Followed

**Some fluffie Renack fanfiction... wrote it up prior to Season 8 premiere. But since it's been a while since I last updated, I figured I should update now. Also.... please, I need reviews to keep me going.**

Renee had that prickly feeling while at CTU that someone was watching her shortly after leaving the building. She had just finished an interrogation in front of new agents that were expected to learn from her--Jack Bauer's--techniques. After all, her director, Brian Hastings had said, she had learned from the best, and if she'd learned from the best, it was expected that others learn from her. Jack Bauer was the most successful in their line of work up until he'd died. Was there no reason that she shouldn't follow in his footsteps? Just so long as they were careful to keep evidence of Amendment 8 out of their database, there was nothing restricting her. She was very careful not to let her conscience get in the way and to clean up after her work.

The fact that in the observation room there were about 5 new recruits already unnerved her, and the fact that she had actually shot their suspect's ankle worsened the fact. She got her information with satisfaction and sent it off to Cole Ortiz in the field, but even so, she hated pain. Although it was somewhat amusing after the interrogation...the 5 new recruits were still in shock in the observation room and didn't know that she was going to enter to encrypt the video feed. When she entered, the only female agent gave a little squeak of fear. Renee's eyes flickered to the beautiful, tall blonde agent recruited from FBI, who by now had covered her mouth. The other agents, four men recruited from CIA and DEA all looked afraid of her as well, and one of them looked nauseated. Just for her amusement, Renee stalked up to the one that was slightly sick and said, "Agent, I have an order for you."

He nodded mutely. Renee continued. "Hand in your resignation. If you can't handle watching some female hotshot torture someone, then there's no way you could."

"Th-th-that won't be necessary," he stammered fearfully.

Renee cocked an eyebrow. "Really?" she asked. She didn't wait for him to answer. "Well then, Agent, I'm usually never wrong but I'll be glad to be proved wrong."

He nodded. "I won't disappoint you, Ma'am."

She had then turned to the female agent. "There's a reason I doubt your ability, too. Fear is a good thing, but there's no reason to fear me, unless you plan on turning traitor. But you all should maintain a healthy level of fear and respect for your colleagues. You can't trust anyone."

"And that goes for all of you," she continued. "I don't care if you save my life, I don't care if you and I are partners for the next 15 years. If you turn traitor, if you even as so much make me _suspect _you, I swear you will regret it. If you don't think you can handle Hastings' and my terms, get out now." She allowed a dramatic pause, as she usually did whenever new recruits had the chance to watch her--for lack of a better word--work. Honestly, she was the only one that Hastings allowed to actually torture someone, because he knew that she was the only one who could get away with it or get pardoned by the president. However, for some odd, bizarre reason, he still thought it important to allow all new recruits watch her so that if it came to the worst case scenario, they would know her--Jack Bauer's, too--techniques.

And yet. The second she stepped out of the door of the office, she had that feeling she was being watched. Usually she was right. The last time was when Hastings had set someone on her tail to see how adept she was at detecting surveillance. The other three times before that it was the same reason. But this time, she had a feeling that someone really was conducting surveillance on her...not just role-play.

She kept her senses alert as she continued across the parking lot to her government-issued-bullet-proof-5-inch-thick-glass-reinforced-steel-vehicle that President Taylor ordered specifically made for her, the FBI director, and the CTU director. Cost taxpayers a fortune, but it was either that or their lives if it came down to it.

As she drove down the street to her modest one-story house, she kept on glancing in the rearview mirror. A blue Pontiac was following her. She made a turn. Pontiac turned the other way. Now a silver Honda Odyssey was behind her. But it pulled into a driveway and made a U-turn. She drove down the country road for a while before another car came into her sights: a white Chevy venture. The driver was an Asian male, and she kept on driving down the same road before he made a turn.

She had the feeling that she was being watched, but she didn't know why. Thinking quickly, she called Chloe at CTU. "Chloe," she said softly, in case her vehicle was tapped. "Run point with me," which meant, "I'm being followed."

"You're just paranoid," Chloe said in exasperation. "And I'm at home with Morris and Prescott, you don't pay me enough to do this every five seconds."

"I'll fire you if you don't," Renee hissed severely.

"As if you will, Walker," Chloe retorted. "We both know that I'm the only one you trust. You wouldn't fire me because A, you can't find another comms or intel analyst, and B, you know that that's an empty threat because I can get a job anywhere I wanted to. What I can tell you is that you're safe. _Good night, Walker."_

"You--" Renee began, but only got a static sound back. Chloe had hung up. She trusted Chloe implicitly--despite their common sparring--and continued on her way home, still taking the longest way possible.

As she pulled in, that prickly feeling had left. Maybe Chloe was right. Chloe hadn't been wrong before...but then again, Renee hadn't been wrong before either.

Before entering her actual house, she did a 360 sweep. It was dark, but she waited until her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light. A neighbor was walking a dog, and she heard crickets chirping. Nothing out of the ordinary. After entering her house she enabled full-security measurements: a thermal heat sensing eliminator that made her house appear all one color to any thermal heat sensor, motion sensors, magnetometer screening through her doors. Once again, the President had enabled her to get that installed. Next to the White House, it was possibly one of the most safest houses in America.

But despite these comforts, she was missing something. She felt that emptiness whenever she went to bed. Before she could actually fall asleep, she would sit on her window sill and reflect on what had gone right or what had gone wrong in her life. Ever since That Day, as she had come to call it, she felt like she was being used. Used by her government that she had worked so valiantly to defend and fight for. She didn't know anything else. She knew that she could work for someone else, but she felt as if she would be out of place if she wasn't doing where she knew her forte laid. She hadn't come to experience anything else than exterminating those who wished her country ill-will. She was invited to a friend's wedding; declined. She was invited to a family reunion, which she wanted to do so desperately, but it interfered with a plot she knew was about to assassinate the president. She had let slip this to the president, who had given her a direct order to attend the reunion, but she didn't want to fail the president. She declined. Her life was comprised of one thing: America.

She didn't remember what her life was like before that. She vaguely remembered college, going to dances and on hiking trips with her friends. A few weeks after That Day, a girlfriend of hers from college contacted her and asked her if she had wanted to go out to lunch or something. She'd replied, "Kathy, if you were watching the news, you've probably figured that I have no time for anything but my country. I'm sorry, but I doubt that we would ever see each other again. And besides, you don't want to see what I've been through; I don't want to expose you to that." Kathy, slightly freaked by her response had sorrowfully agreed.

Renee, in accordance to her usual nighttime rituals, took a shower and then sat on the window sill, leaning against the frame. She kept her eyes closed, as if she were falling asleep, but was really alert for anything and everything. But she failed in her surveillance detection in this manner, for not long after, a voice sounded in the room: "I'd expect you would be asleep at this late hour."

Renee replied, "Lately, I've found it hard to fall asleep."

"Maybe I can help," the stranger offered. No longer a stranger, but Jack Bauer.

Renee lifted her head and opened her eyes. "How'd you know it was me?" Jack asked stoically.

"The way Chloe phrased it. I told her I was being followed and she told me that I was fine and safe. She wouldn't tell me anything else. I know perfectly well that she's strictly follows your orders, not mine. I wasn't surprised." She paused, while Jack stood in the door way.

"Why are you here?" She finally asked, tilting her head inquisitively.

Jack took a few steps closer to her, closing the distance between them. He said softly, "Chloe was worried about you. She said that you were going down the road I once took, and I don't want you to do that."

Renee scoffed sarcastically, "You're the one that taught me what I know. If you'd just killed me when you had the chance, you wouldn't have created such a monster."

Jack tilted his head. "How can someone so sharp, so beautiful be portrayed as a monster?" he asked.

"That's what happened in Mary Shelley's classic," Renee responded, turning her face away from him and leaning her head back, closing her eyes.

"In which case," Jack replied. "Since I created you, I would be the creator of the monster, and if you remember anything of British Literature, you'll remember that it was the monster who had the conscience and was more _human _that its creator."

"I didn't mean it that way," Renee said, getting frustrated. She heard soft footsteps across the floor, and felt Jack's hand snake under her knees and his other hand come under her back. "What are you doing?" she asked inquisitively, opening her eyes sharply and turning her piercing, turquoise gaze on him.

"Relax," Jack murmured, avoiding her stare. "I'm not going to do anything to you. I'm just going to help you sleep."

"And if I don't relax?" she asked just to spite him.

"I'll torture you into relaxing, so shut up with the comments or you'll find yourself in a much worse situation." She wisely followed his instructions and let her head fall back. She felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he carried her into her room. He gently deposited her onto her bed and pushed her into the middle of it. He sat on the edge, gazing down at her with some emotion she couldn't name.

She remained still, waiting for him to talk. "Why did you let me believe that you were dead for so long?" She finally asked when he didn't talk.

"I was hoping that you would return to your normal routine. That I wouldn't be remembered. Which clearly didn't happen."

"I don't see how you could have expected that," Renee said softly, thinking. "You showed me how the law doesn't always save lives, and ultimately, that's all that matters."

"That's not what I told you," he said.

"No," Renee agreed. "That's what you showed me though."

"You need to sleep," Jack said suddenly. "Chloe told me you have a big day tomorrow."

"What's that?" She asked.

"You were going to go down to Quantico to assess the FBI trainees," he reminded her. Right, she remembered.

"Well," she responded, "I'm finding it rather difficult to sleep, like I told you."

He gazed at her and she noticed the way his eyes flicked down towards the scar he put on her neck. "I can put you out," he said softly. "Right here, right now. I promise I'll make it quick and painless. And if you don't want me to put you into a sleeper hold, I know other methods."

She was tempted to take him up on that offer. "Only problem is," she said softly, looking to the side. "When I wake up, I won't know if this really happened or not."

Jack hesitated. "Then I'll stay here."

Without waiting for an offer, he stood up and walked around the bed to lay down beside her, behind her. She tensed slightly when she felt him close the distance between them. She spooned up against him, feeling safe, feeling that emptiness in her chest extinguish. He pulled her even closer to him and felt him bury his head in her hair, breathing in. She felt his arm come over her stomach and hold her firmly.

Tonight, she could sleep peacefully.

**review please!!! --Phoenix Falconer**


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